


Tony Stark Doesn't Cuddle

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Cuddle, Cuddles, First Date, First Kiss, Forgiveness, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War, Iron Dad, Kissing, Post Infinity War, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spooning, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Stony - Freeform, Swimming Pools, Time Skips, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-28 20:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15714132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Steve doesn't understand what happened to Tony on Titan and Tony just doesn't want to relive it.OrThree chapters that follow the two healing after the traumatic events of Infinity War.Includes Irondad and some of Peter <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wants to try and get through to Tony, and funnily enough, it's spooning that works.

\-----------

Steve finally got the courage to follow the long corridor down to the left and knock gently on the last door, where he was told Tony was. 

They'd been using the Wakandan facilities for nearly two weeks after it all happened, few people actually prepared for what they might find when they got home. The remaining Wakandan monarchy generously offered their help, giving places to stay, food, and medical help for whoever needed it. Okoye was the first to give it, her face stony and her eyes puffy.

"Our home is yours too, now. Use whatever you need. I'm truly sorry."

No one really expected to see Tony Stark again. Especially not arriving in a spaceship a week in, with a purple woman who looked less than happy to help him limp into the city, but did anyway.

She disappeared as quick as she'd came. 

The creature Rocket didn't seem sad or happy to see her leave again. After she delivered him news that 'the rest of them' were gone, he stayed, sat in the room allocated for him just watching a wall and once in a while punching a chair. Steve had heard it a few times walking past. 

Aside from seeing Rocket, the purple woman left quickly in the ship she'd came in. She didn't give the impression that she really cared that much about the raccoon. 

But they all felt gratitude towards her that she'd helped bring Tony back.

 

He had stayed in the room Okoye had offered him, and not moved for six days. Food was left by different people outside the door everyday- shifts had unspokenly been created. When Bruce was around, he'd pick his lunch up from the canteen and place it in front of his door with a quiet knock. When Natasha wasn't kicking the shit out of punching bags, she got his dinner and made him a drink. Thor hung around too. He was one of the few who actively worried about the man. Not many people did. But Thor and Tony got along well, once. So he made him food.

Rhodey was there the most. He did the most, and on occasion tried to talk to his best friend. It rarely worked, but he was the only one Tony would speak to. He'd always eat the most of Rhodey's plates.

He also, Steve noticed, he never ate from Steve's.

Maybe it was just guilt that made him go there once in a while to put him down a plate of biscuits and some water.

They would still be there the next morning.

He didn't know why he didn't expect anything else, honestly.

He gave up on that. It was clear he didn't seem to be doing anything for his mental health. 

Until one day, the day before they were due to leave for New York, Steve sat outside of his room.

Because he couldn't stop the guilt just eating him up inside. 

It had been more than two years, but it didn't stop him from feeling fucking terrible. 

"Tony?" He mumbled against the door. 

The cold tickled his bare feet. Everyone was probably asleep. It was 7 o'clock, but no one made the habit of staying up late. 

It was probably a stupid idea. Steve stood up slowly, and rested his hand on the door handle. There wasn't a lock on the doors, but out of respect, no one had tried to go into Tony's room except Rhodey. Everyone just took his word for it that the man was still alive. 

'Tony Stark' kind of felt like a dream. Steve had no idea what he'd see if he went in there. But he felt like he needed to.

He pressed down on the handle, and the door gave a small creak as he pushed it open a fraction. 

It was dismally dark inside, the blinds drawn tight so not even the evening light could seep in. He dared to take a step into the silent room, hanging onto the door in case he had to leave quickly. It was like everyone elses room, white walls, soft double bed, a wardrobe, a table and chairs. Except this room must have looked the least lived in than all of them. He caught sight of Tony on the bed.

He lay down on his back, his eyes wide open, watching the ceiling. It was nearly the same man that Steve remembered. The same dark, chocolate eyes and the same touselled, dark, unkempt hair. His body looked even smaller than usual somehow, his hand rested lightly on his stomach and the other to his side. He looked thinner. His lips were chapped and hung open slightly, his expression was empty. 

But it was Tony. 

He reacted as soon as he flicked his eyes to the side and saw that the intruder wasn't Rhodey. He snorted. There was a glimmer of surprise in his eyes for a fraction of a second, before he shuffled his body sideways to lie away from him.

"Hey."

It came out croaky and unsure, but Steve couldn't think of anything else to say.

He didn't get a reply for a good minute before Tony mumbled quietly.

"You never give it up, do you?"

He dared to take another careful step in, closing the door behind him.

"Apparently not."

Steve didn't trust himself to say anything else. He just stood, aware of how scruffy he probably looked out of his suit, in baggy pajamas and his overgrown beard. He had plans at one point to shave it. He'd gotten used to it now. Maybe it was a fresh start. 

He felt stupid. Maybe he shouldn't have come at all- though Tony didn't seem to actively be kicking him out. Maybe they could talk. 

"If you're here to talk you can forget it."

Ah. Nevermind. 

Steve just folded his arms, watching Tony's chest rise and fall.

After a while, he asked in a soft voice,

"What am I allowed to do?"

He waited, hoping that the long stretch of quiet was just Tony thinking. But in the end, he didn't reply at all. 

Silence fell back over them, and Steve bit his lip. He supposed, when he really thought about it, he didn't want to talk about it either. Somehow he knew that bringing up Siberia wasn't going to end well.

"We don't need to talk about it."

He didn't really know why he said it. In reality, they very much needed to talk about it- silence was only going to make it worse.

Maybe they didn't need to talk about it now.

Tony finally replied.

"Just stay then."

It was soft, and his voice broke as he said it. 

Steve felt safer staying, though.

He wondered if he, the man who stuck a shield in his chest and left him in Siberia, would come as a comfort to Tony. He didn't think so. But maybe it would comfort him to have Steve doing something that wasn't that. God knows he'd probably relived it hundreds of times in his dreams. 

He was nervous. Tony seemed irritated and maybe hurt by Steve's presence, but at the same time, comfortable with him being there.

He stood, just watching Tony's back for another five minutes, neither of them moving and the room filled with the slow sounds of them breathing. 

Then he made what could simultaneously be the best or worst decision ever, and made towards the bed.

Careful not to startle him, Steve slowly lowered himself onto the mattress, one move at a time. The bed creaked, but Tony didn't move. He laid down, moving his body closer to Tony's until he curled and his leg touched the back of the smaller man's calf. 

Clearly he didn't expect Steve to get as close as he did. Tony jumped at the contact- but didn't move from his position.

"You really think I'm the spooning type, Rogers?" He half spat, half laughed, half growled. Steve noticed how he'd tensed, the bitterness in his voice, but also how he hadn't moved and he was stiller than he'd ever seen him. 

"You're not really giving any other options," Steve pointed out. They were barely touching, and Steve didn't really want to until he got the green light. Or at least, Tony's version of a green light. 

He gathered that the man needed it. Some contact.? Someone by him.? Maybe it was just all in his head. But it felt right.

It clearly felt right to Stark too under all that thick skin, because after a few minutes, he started to un-tense, and after giving a weak attempt at a dominant growl he pushed his back quickly into Steve's chest. It was a harsh movement that nearly winded Steve, but it was a result. His beard, at closer look, was uneven and ragged, and Steve could see the stubble growing where it didn't usually from the back of his head just past his ear. He noticed things he never had from laying a few centimetres from the back of his head. He saw the gray that tickled the tips of his hair at the back and the way he shuddered sometimes when he exhaled too deeply. 

It was nice. Steve knew Tony was too stubborn to admit that, or even turn around. Especially to admit that he missed Steve.

If he even did. Steve knew that he missed Tony. 

The contact spread warmth through Steve's chest. He found it funny how small Tony looked curled into him. Tony wasn't even a really small man- probably shorter than average, but he was stocky and gave the impression of being much bigger. But compared to the super solider, it was kind of laughable. Steve almost chuckled against his neck. 

He could feel how defensive Tony was being by just lying next to him. His back was still tense and he could see all his muscles through his shirt. He wished he could help him just...

He nibbled on his lip again, making sure his face was far enough away so that his beard didn't touch Tony's neck. He couldn't help but want to ask questions, he couldn't help but be curious-

"Did you see anyone... Go? What happened up-"

"Don't."

Tony's voice snapped back harsh and low, taking Steve by suprise. At the same time, his arm grabbed back to grip Steve's arm tightly. He pulled it forward with a force, and Steve didn't bother resisting. He just let Tony pull it around himself like a blanket. The force pulled Steve closer into Tony, and before he knew it, forehead was pressed into his neck and his hips pressed into the curve of his back. Tony's grip didn't loosen, even when Steve's arm was wrapped around his waist tightly. He maintained a tight grip on his wrist. Steve really didn't mind. He just focused on being still. Being what Tony needed. 

The squeezing got harder. It hurt, but it was bearable. Steve offered comfort in return by twisting his hand up. He rubbed his thumb in circles along the knuckles that clenched his wrist tightly. The grip loosened. Just a little.

They must have laid there for about twenty minutes. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. And he fucking meant it.

"I know."

They stayed there, just resting into each others warmth. Steve didn't know if it was a sign of forgiveness. He didn't even know if it was a sign of trust. He felt bad. Maybe it was just a sign of desperation, and really, he shouldn't be there at all. His stomach clench.

His worry was quickly eased as Tony's breath slowed considerably. He sighed, the grip around Steve's wrist suddenly falling away. Warm fingertips traced the inside of Steve's arm, down to his palm, down to the tips of his own fingers. Steve had to stop himself from making a move to take his hand. 

An hour must have passed when Tony's gravelly voice rumbled through Steve's chest like a fire.

"If you tell anyone, anyone at all that I was a little spoon I'll fucking strangle you."

The blonde chuckled. 

"Okay," he replied simply, bringing the hand that was draped over Tony's waist to rest on the shorter man's stomach. 

He felt pleased at the content sigh Tony let out without meaning to. 

 

It wasn't exactly how he pictured his first meet with Tony after the accords. But he was glad it happened. He was glad he could help him. He was glad Tony could trust him somehow to sleep by him, even though the last memories were ones where Steve had tried to kill him. He was glad he was still.. Tony.

Yet there was a chunk of him missing that Steve couldn't place. Everyone lost people to Thanos. His heart ached when he thought of Bucky and Sam. But Tony lost something really, really important. Something different had happened to him up there. 

In the end, Steve decided it wasn't his place to know. It hurt his heart to leave, but he had to. When Tony's breath had completely evened out and Steve knew he was asleep, he moved away gently so he wouldn't knock him awake, laid a blanket across his body and slipped out of the bed. 

Maybe they could talk in New York. Maybe it would be better then. Maybe he could talk to someone he trusted, someone who wasn't him. He hoped he could. 

 

He looked at the unfamiliarly peaceful face of Tony one last time, before he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me how you liked the first chapter. I'm writing the second now, ill try and have it up asap :) people really liked my three part Peter series, so here's one from Steve's P.O.V. And yeah sometimes I'm just a sucker for Stony so here we go lads


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to mend his relationship with Tony. In the meantime, he puzzles over who Peter Parker is and why he's living with Tony.

2 months after the snap was reversed, as everything had started to settle back to normal, Rhodey often visited Tony in his apartment. 

Steve hadn't been near it, but he spoke to Rhodey sometimes. Because of this, he knew the address of the apartment, and exactly where it was. 

So, he was very confused when he went round finally to speak to him, and instead of Tony, a teenager in an oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt and touselled brown hair answered the door. 

The silence hung over them for only a second or two, but it was still painfully uncomfortable as Steve tried to collect himself.

"Is... Is Tony in?"

He was half expecting the kid to tell him that he had the wrong door, but he didn't say that at all.

"Not right now. He's out, he should be back soon though. Did you want to come in and wait..?"

The suprise that popped in and out of the teenager's eyes when he opened the door told Steve he probably knew exactly who he was.

"If that's okay," he told him. "I could come back later, or-"

"It's okay, he shouldn't be long, honestly."

So Steve reluctantly followed him into the hall.

He'd been really caught off guard. The boy not only looked no older than about 18, but he had bags under his eyes and generally looked drained. He spoke well, however, seemed visibly nervous but overall a pleasant person. Steve just didn't understand why.

Did Tony have a child he hadn't told anyone about..? No, that's crazy. He hadn't been hiding that for nearly twenty years. His brain hurt thinking about it.

He tried not to question it right away. The boy lead him through the hall into a large lounge, modest for the Tony Stark he knew but a flashy layout for the scruffy looking kid that guided him. The walls were subtly patterned with white leaves, the black, sleek furniture were patterned with the same design. A small kitchen connected itself to the main lounge where the couches were gathered around a coffee table, and every surface was bright and modern looking, and Steve, though he'd lived in the 21st century for nearly ten years, felt uncomfortably out of place. 

He couldn't help noticing the lack of... things. Not even a scrap of junk or metal, a screwdriver or some bolts lying around to signify that Tony had well used the living space. Nothing to show a teenager had slobbed around, no wires or empty plates, no school books or marks on the floor or tables. It was spotless. He wondered if Tony had somehow became a much more tidy person since 2016. Maybe he'd just missed a lot.

He did notice a single thing that sat on the counter- a two litre bottle of a scary looking energy drink Steve recognised. He remember back when he first met Sam when he recommended him them to help with his fast metabolism. Steve thought they tasted disgusting- just fake and full of sugar. He didn't really fully understand modern diets and especially didn't understand why kids would go around drinking drinks like that.

Then again, maybe he was old. 

The boy motioned Steve to sit at the counter on a high stool. Steve did so. He quickly screwed the top back on the bottle and putting it in the fridge behind him. His movements seemed a bit quick and jerky, and Steve wondered what he knew about the accords, Berlin, Siberia- anything. If he watched the news and wasn't living under a rock, he'd most likely know that Captain America was titled a war criminal, before the world went upside down.

"Drink?" He asked politely, wiping his hands on his trousers and looking more on edge by the second.

"I'm okay, thank you," Steve smiled. The boy nodded and turned around, getting to work with making himself a cup of something. Whether he intended to drink it or not, Steve didn't know. 

After a stretch of awkward silence as the boy stirred milk into his tea, the spoon clanking against the edge of the mug, he turned round to address the older man. 

"So- what do you want Tony for, Mr Rogers?"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

"Call me Steve," he offered, and he nodded with pursed lips, "and we just need to talk. I've heard he's been coping better lately, so I stopped by. I take it you understand some of the stuff that... happened a few years ago." 

His nervous glance up confirmed that.

"What's your name?"

He watched Steve doubtfully for a moment, as if he were judging if it were safe to give him a name.

"Peter," he said curtly, after a moment. 

"Nice to meet you, Peter," he returned with a smile he hoped was friendly. He felt like he shouldn't make a bad first impression on whoever this was. 

"You too," Peter nodded again, though still looked nerved. He tapped his fingers unconsciously against the mug he picked up after putting the milk away. He shut the fridge with ease with the tip of his bare foot, and sat down, blowing softly on the steaming mug of tea. 

"I was surprised to see you at the door," he commented a minute later, trying to collect his courage. He made an odd face, as if he regretted saying anything at all.

"Yeah?" Steve responded, raising an eyebrow in hope to hear more. He hoped he were coming across as calm and approachable as possible, and not like a criminal who was there to interrogate this child's father.

Though he seriously doubted this was Tony's kid.

Then who was he?

Peter nodded slowly.

"I know... I like, yeah- I know most of what happened. And everything." He took a quick sip of his drink and failed to make the action look natural as he accidentally spilt some down his chin. "I know it wasn't all your fault," he added hastily, pulled his sleeve down to the heel of his hand and dragging it clumsily across his chin to clear the tea. "but- yeah, I know you both hurt each other - and Tony was affected by the Siberia stuff- and I know you're not here to be an asshole or anything- like, I know I can probably trust you-" Peter placed the mug down too hard on the table, so the liquid inside sloshed up and split on the table- "uhh- and- I think talking will do you good. Tony good. And you. Maybe. Uhh, yeah."

Steve tried not to smile. The boy kind of reminded him of the chip he used to be. Nervous, jittery and scared of confrontation. 

"Yes. Hopefully it'll be good." 

"Yeah."

Steve tried to not make his looking too obvious, but he couldn't help sneaking glances when Peter was wiping up the tea at his face. He didn't look like Tony... Did he? Different brown eyes, Peter's being quite a bit lighter. Wrong shaped nose... Lips kind of showed signs of resemblance, but nothing screamed relation. Maybe he had adopted? Maybe he was just looking after him? A friend?

"I don't know if he's ready though," Peter continued, as if it were what he'd been trying to get off his shoulders the whole time. "I don't know how he'll react. It might not be good so... Don't force it."

Steve was worried about that.

He felt couldn't reply to his concerns about Tony without fully understanding why he had those concerns. He felt extremely rude just asking him 'who are you?' so in the end, he settled for:

"How do you know Tony?"

He didn't really expect Peter to be too nervous at the question, but as soon as he asked it, the boys eyes lit up like police sirens were sounding in his head, and he looked like he might pass out. 

For maybe, half a second.

He recovered quickly. Calm and composed. 

"He- I was an intern," he said, stumbling on his words. "He was helping my family and me... I wanted to go to MIT, so he helped with money and stuff- and- and stuff is going on with my family, so I'm staying here until... It fixes up. Gets better."

Steve nodded as if all his questions had been answered, when really, he was still painfully confused. 

"I hope things get better soon, kid. Families can be tough."

Peter nodded, swallowing nervously. Steve felt kind of bad.

He changed the subject.

"That's amazing though, MIT. You must be really clever, right?"

"Yeah," He said sheepishly, going pink. "Well, its only really Math and Science- I'm hopeless and Language and anything else really..."

"Well, you must be something special for Tony to take such a shine to you," Steve told him sincerely. "No wonder he keeps you around if you're a science whiz. He showed you his suits?"

He felt proud when he got his first small smile out of the boy. 

"Yeah, he has."

He stopped there, which Steve found a little questionable, but quickly dismissed it.

"Hey," Peter said suddenly, biting his lip a little. "Thanks for being... Nice, I guess. Thanks for coming too. This will really help him out. He might not act like it straight away... But I know talking will help in the long run. Thank you for caring, Steve."

He smiled. The manners on this boy were wonderful and he honestly just seemed like a genuinely nice person. 

"No problem," Steve replied. "I just hope it works out."

Just as he finished speaking, the front door clicked behind them from the hall.

Peter's head snapped to the hall, his eyes alert again as the door opened, and then shut again with another crack of the lock.

"Home, Pete."

There it was. That familiar voice that Steve could never wipe from his head. Slightly gruffer than he remember, a little croaky as if speaking loudly put him in pain, but the same, velvety voice of Tony Stark.

Peter's face lit up slightly, a smile creeping onto his lips. Steve found it sweet.

"Hey," he called back, shuffling on his stool.

"Picked up some... What is it? That alphabeti- spaghetti you were telling me about? I just saw it and thought about you so now I guess I have to cook dinner."

He huffed dramatically. Steve was near stunned.

The voice was painfully softer and fonder than the last time he'd heard it. A few months ago, before everything was put right, Tony's voice sounded like venom when he spoke to Steve and as if every word hurt him. Steve almost cracked a relieved smile right there and then. He didn't get the chance to question what 'alphabetti- spaghetti' was- Tony had turned the corner and came into view, two shopping bags in each hand. He was dressed in a pair of old, tight jeans, some tatty trainers he looked like he used to wear to his garage, and an old t-shirt that was too tight for him. His beard was unshaped, though he looked better than he had when Steve saw him in Wakanda. He wore a hat that was probably to help cover his face- and before he caught sight of Steve, he wore a calm, soft expression on his face.

Peter just sat still like a deer caught in the headlights, his breath held and waiting for a reaction. Tony's eyes flicked dangerous between the two in front of him, and his eyes narrowed.

"Mr Rodgers came to say hello," Peter chimed into the silence, before visibly cringing at himself and stuffing a wad of material from his sleeve into his mouth.

Steve stood slowly, offering Tony a soft smile. Tony just watched him like a hawk.

"Peter," Tony said slowly after a moment, "can you excuse us for a bit.?"

"Yes, course," he nodded quickly. He stood from his seat, and made his way into the hall. "I'll go to the library for a bit."

"In your pajamas?" Tony scoffed, in a voice that made Steve question the father theory again.

"Ah- yeah. Maybe not. Okay, I'll be in- my room. Not listening in."

He quickly scurried to Tony to take the bags from him. Steve noted how he was almost as tall as him. And how their hair was equally as messy. 

"I'll put this away later," he told him quickly. "You two... Talk. Yeah. I'll see you in a bit."

And without another awkward word, he turned on his heel and made down another hallway.

 

Steve couldn't tell if Tony was disappointed he was there or not. He had frozen in the doorway, his lips hung slightly open as his eyes turned back to follow him. 

"I thought we should talk," he said, taking a step towards him. 

Tony eyed him again, running his eyes down the solider from his head to his feet.

"You still have the beard," he said finally. He took a step too. He took his hat from his head, and threw it lightly at one of the couches so it landed on the cushions. 

"Yeah," Steve smiled. He decided it was probably a good sign if Tony was making small talk about his facial hair.

Tony lifted a hand, motioning him to a couch. Steve moved round the table and sat, letting the cushions swallow him up as he sunk into the fabric. Tony sat too on the couch opposite, one leg pulled up so he could rest his chin on his knee. 

It wasn't very clear who'd start the conversation first, until Tony actually made the effort to look at him.

"When I saw you for the first time after I came back," Tony said carefully, "I was relieved. You looked different. Kind of like a shit Father Christmas. I don't know if I'd have freaked if you came in clean shaven or not. But I'm glad you have a beard now, because it reminds me less of my friend trying to murder me, and more of a grisly bear minus the bear attitude."

He half spat the sentence, avoiding the other man's eye. 

Steve shrunk back in his chair, taking a slow breath. 

He felt terrible. 

How could he have hoped a fucking cuddle would help?

"I'm so, so sorry," he said slowly, not sure how that made up for anything. Tony snorted.

"Yeah."

He rested his cheek on his knee. 

He regretted nearly everything about that night. He didn't regret saving Bucky, not at all. He didn't regret his efforts to try and stop Tony so Bucky could escape. But he regretted how hard he went. He went a million miles over that line. 

He could have gone about it any other way- but he let his fear lead him to really, really hurt the man he'd grown to care about. 

"I'm sorry about your parents."

"I wouldn't waste your breath, I'm only sorry about one of them anyway," Tony waved a hand aggressively. "No- I've moved past that. Yeah, you should have told me. But I was just angry in the moment. I can... Bring myself to understand why you kept it from me. I'm sorry."

He was surprised to hear Tony say that. 

"It's not an excuse."

Tony shrugged in despair, looking at him with doleful eyes.

"You were scared. You wanted to protect your friend."

"You were my friend."

Tony closed his mouth. 

He felt like Tony had done wrong too. He couldn't help it- he had, he knew that Bucky had been brainwashed, so why did he keep trying to kill them?

No. Not kill them. Tony was never trying to do that.

And that's what made the difference. Tony went for Bucky, he went for revenge and it was all fuelled by anger and resent- but deep down, he knew Bucky didn't do it, and that's exactly why he went for his arm and not for his head. He could have repulsor blasted Bucky's face off. 

But Steve shoved a shield in his chest so he couldn't get home. 

No. Steve fucked up. Much more. 

Five minutes past, the tick of the clock on the wall replacing their heated conversation. Tony spoke first again. Steve supposed that's just how it was. Tony always had to get the first and last of it.

"I'm sorry. About Bucky."

Steve nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

"And... When he disappeared, too. I heard about that.'

He nodded again, biting his cheek harder.

"But I'm sorry for trying to hurt him. I know it wasn't really him... I just..."

"You don't need to apologise," Steve cut in, understanding exactly what he was trying to say. "You found out your mother's death wasn't an accident and you saw Bucky's body kill her. You would have been crazy for that to not break you. I understand."

Something in Tony's expression softened, and his leg slid down off the couch as he didn't assume his defensive position. 

"What I need to say," Steve tried to continue with all the courage he had, "is that I never wanted to hurt you. That I care about you, and I regret everything I did."

Tony's brown eyes looked jet black as they stared into Steve's. Like he was looking deep into his head, trying to un-code if he was telling the truth or not. 

"I was afraid. I let the adrenaline drive me and... and-"

"You were scared I would hurt you?"

"...Yeah."

Tony sat up suddenly, and Steve flinched. The intensity of the encounter had him really on edge. 

"I don't know if I'm ready for this," he said, keeping a level tone. "I don't- I don't even know what's going on in my head about you Steve, I don't know if you should be here. I don't know if I blame you, I don't think I do- but I can't stop thinking about it. Every other night I have these horrible fucking nightmares, and they don't stop. Just looking at you is making my skin crawl. I don't think that's your fault." He stopped, taking a short breath as if he just remembered his lungs needed oxygen. "But I'm having a really hard time looking at you and not having a mental breakdown. It's just me." 

His eyes looked glassy. His bottom lip trembled slightly, and god, Steve started to wish he'd waited, no matter how much he missed Tony. 

"I don't know what you said to Peter," he continued feverishly, "but I'm gonna lose my mind if you've persuaded him that this is the right thing for me. I just need time."

He slumped down.

It was almost insulting that Tony thought Steve could use the boy against him.

"I wouldn't persuade him anything," he insisted confidently, narrowing his eyes. "I just told him why I was here. I wouldn't manipulate a child. In fact, he told me that you might not be ready."

"Maybe you should have listened," Tony said coldly. "And he's not a child."

He wasn't going to win. He felt his insides twist as a painful realisation set in his stomach. 

What if it will never be the same?

Being away from Tony only made Steve more guilty, more hurt, more desperate for him. He'd do anything at that point to just prove how much he really cared, to move the clock forward to a time where Tony could be okay again. 

He was so stupid. So, so ungodly stupid, he couldn't even come up with a valid excuse for doing what he had. Selfishness had clouded over his head and all he could think was 

please, please, please make him forgive me. 

 

But he was right. He needed time. And that's what Steve would give him. 

Tony seemed taken aback as Steve stood slowly from the couch, straightening himself up. He obviously suspected more of a fight to be put up. 

"You're going?"

"Yes."

To prevent the other man from seeing his shaking hands, he slid them into the pockets of his jogging bottoms, not being able to stop looking at the brunette wistfully. 

Tony stood too, begrudgingly, obviously feeling obliged to show his guest out. They both walked to the hall, and Steve noticed how much shorter Tony was compared to him, how he could probably rest his chin on his head. How easy it would be to lean against him. How simple it would be to plant a kiss on his head. 

"I'll come back."

Tony turned around, his eyes had lost the frustration they last had, and instead looked at Steve sadly.

"Yeah."

They got to the door. Desire burned inside the solider. He wouldn't see Tony again for... At least a few months? He wouldn't be surprised if Tony wasn't replying in a year. He gathered it was a fitting punishment. He'd did it. He'd given him those nightmares- it was his fault. He'd hurt Tony.

He'd hurt Tony.

Just thinking the short sentence made his head physically ache in pain.

He opened the door, leaving Steve just stood a metre behind him, thinking fast on his feet.

"Tony?"

He looked back with glossy eyes.

"Mhm?"

Before he missed his chance, he stepped in, planting his foot in between Tony's and enveloped the man in his strong arms. His head dipped down to fall on his shoulder, against the side of his head- and he just hugged him. 

What else could he do?

Tony seemed frozen for a moment, his arms hanging limp at his sides and his breath hitched. But, after a long silence, he lifted his right arm, pressing his hand to the small of Steve's back, and let his head fall slowly into him. 

Steve could have cried with relief.

It was the longest hug he'd ever had, where he just stood there, holding onto Tony and relishing in the warmth, breathing in his musky scent and the fact he was hugging back. 

Which had to be a good sign. 

"I don't hug. Or cuddle," he mumbled after a while, his soft voice ringing in Steve's ears. He knew he was referencing Wakanda.

"You're not really giving me any other options," he replied.

Tony moved against him. He nearly laughed. 

He was the first to move away, avoiding his eyes and his neck and face slightly redder than before 

"I'll see you."

That was all Steve needed to hear.

He wanted to say something, anything before he left. Sorry was overused. But he was more sorry that anything. 

Before walking briskly away and not looking back, he leaned in, and said sorry for the last time, by pressing his lips quickly to Tony's forehead. The kiss barely registered in Tony's expression before he was out of the door. 

Sometimes actions spoke louder than words. 

That must have been the case, because Steve wasn't two minutes down the road when he got a message beep from the flip phone that was firmly pressed into his back pocket.

 

"*I believe you*"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was sloppier than the first, I'm sorry if it was. I hope you enjoyed it anyway, it was fun writing nervous Peter talking to Captain America. Leave your comments, it makes me so happy seeing them, any constructive feedback I really appreciate :)) next chapter will be set maybe a year in the future and they'll be a nice lil resolution <3


	3. Chapter 3

Nine months later, Steve Rogers found himself waiting outside of the Avenger compound’s old swimming pool. 

He sat on the steps, his heavy grey coat pulled tightly around him and a small waterproof bag against his side. The wind whistled in his ears. The winter was bitingly cold, and his face was red from the icy air, though all he felt inside was an excitable energy that made him feel much warmer than he was. Heat tingled through his fingers that were laced tightly around the flip phone he held. He couldn’t help but feel hopeful, yet afraid at the same time. 

He started to worry again. Did he get the right time..? He flipped the phone open, watching the small numbers blink on the screen. He’d been there for at least ten minutes.  
Was he expecting a call? Maybe not one at all? Maybe he’d forgotten. Maybe he had panicked. Maybe he just decided not to come, and Steve was going to be sat on his own waiting for an hour with little hope.

He bit his lip.

He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he jumped when someone turned the corner and came into view. He jolted, blinking as he looked up at them with wide eyes.  
Oh man.

The Tony Stark that had frequented his dreams was much different to the man in real life. Dream Tony seemed colder, more quiet and mysterious. Sometimes he was cruel. That was just Steve’s anxieties messing around, though.

Real Tony just… looked like a friend. He looked as normal and calm as he ever did. Cool and suave, not like the Tony he’d seen after Thanos- much the Tony before, before Ultron, before New York, when they first met. He was bundled in a thick leather jacket he’d seen him in before, tight jeans, and shoes that looked more expensive than what Steve had been living off that past month. As sleek as his outfit looked, he wasn’t wearing the aviators he usually did, and his hair was tousled tastefully back, looking as beautifully dark and soft as ever. His beard was trimmed perfectly like old times, grey tickling the dark hairs lining his jaw. Steve was pleased to see his eyes that were bright and narrowed as he smiled. His mind had lead him to expect something else- but there he was, in his glory and pleased to see Steve.

His heart ached a little.

“I didn’t think you’d ever text.”

Tony smiled a perfect smile. 

“Me neither.”

His voice was still silky smooth and low, though had lost some of the gruffness it had almost a year ago. He sounded whole, happy. 

Slowly, Steve stood up, straightening his jacket. Tony came up the stairs part way, and Steve felt the air thicken all of a sudden. Hugs? No, not yet. A handshake.? No, way too formal.

Tony saved him suddenly, lifting his arm a little to show the bag he held in his hand. He smirked, looking up at the blonde through thick, dark eyelashes.

“Swimming?”

Steve shrugged with a small smile back.

“I didn’t want us to just sit and talk. I wanted to just… I don’t know. Do something nice.”

“Sounds an awful lot like a date, Rodgers,” he said airily, making Steve feel light headed. He put his hands in his pockets, rolling his tongue absentmindedly along the inside of his lip and trailing his eyes to Steve’s baby blues. Steve looked down, now grinning like a fucking idiot.

“You look better,” he replied with shining eyes, avoiding the ‘classic, flirtatious Tony Stark’ comment. “Things looking up?”

“Yeah. You know what? They really are.”

 

Yeah. They were.

They went into the swimming pool, Steve using his old ID card to unlock the changing rooms. He’d tried to explain to Tony as they walked in why he’d chosen swimming of all things. 

He didn’t want to fuck anything up. They spoke briefly through messages two weeks ago, and Steve had realised something- they both just missed each other. They were yet to touch on the whole situation, but Steve knew he was sick to the stomach of even thinking about Siberia. He wasn’t completely sure- but, if he’d read the signs right, Tony didn’t want to either, and he hoped that the meeting would just be a breath of fresh air for both of them. He hoped with all his might they didn’t have to talk about it.

After all, what else could they say?

“It’s fun,” he’d explained to Tony. “I used to swim all the time back in Brooklyn. I thought it would just help… break the barrier. I missed seeing you.”

He was afraid that was too upfront. His fear melted away when Tony had just gave him a side eye glance with a twinkle in his eye and said, “Me too, Cap.”

 

Steve dressed into his swimming trunks as fast as he could. Neither man was particularly self-conscious of their body- at least Steve didn’t think Tony was- so they didn’t bother going into cubicles and just changed by the benches. He didn’t exactly need to strip- he’d put on his trunks under his clothes so he just needed to undress. He supposed it didn’t matter anyway, since they stood with their backs to each other. He didn’t think they actually looked at each other until they went into the pool. The lights flickered to life as they walked in, making the still pool glitter like it was made of diamonds. It brought a smile to Steve’s face- he’d spent a good amount of time in the pool at the old Avenger’s Tower, and a wave of nostalgia swept over him as he sat on the side of the pool. He hadn’t had the time to do something like this for a while.

He slid into the cool water, tensing as it washed over his shoulders. The shallow end of the pool was deep enough to reach Steve’s pecs, but he dipped his body lower until the water tickled his chin, trying to acclimatise himself to the temperature.

“Cold?”

His eyes flicked to Tony stood above him on the side, arms crossed over himself and grinning down at Steve in all his glory. Steve couldn’t look away. He tried to make the scans he made down his body casual, but it was hard- it had been so long seen he’d just… seen Tony. His body was so perfectly sculpted. He wasn’t far off fifty, but his stomach was still so toned and the muscles around it were so tight. The size of his arms told Steve he’d worked out more since he last saw him. He wasn’t ripped by any means, he was still significantly smaller than the super solider, but his biceps pulsed as he gripped his own arms and his legs looked like they could strangle someone. Not to mention his ass. Plump and firm looking- fuck.

Steve silently thanked himself for putting him in such a situation where he had to wear so little.

“Nope,” He popped the p, masking his lingering eyes by bouncing off the bottom of the pool and pushing himself backwards through the water.

He noticed Tony had his arms folded over the scar on his chest, where he knew the arc reactor once was before it was removed. There was a slight dip in his skin and a harsh dark line going around where the stitches once were. It was kind of beautiful. 

The man slid himself into the water, pulling a face.

“Nah- that’s cold. You suck.”

But Steve had already swam away, backstroking away down to the far deep end of the pool. He was fast- he’d always loved swimming. After doing the full length he touched the side and took a breath, wiping the water from his eyes and treading the deep waters. He turned to look over at Tony, who was just watching him from the far end.

“Who’s Peter?”

He called it so the question echoed through the room, rippling across the water. Steve wasn’t sure how touchy the subject was, so he was glad there was a whole pool between them.

He heard Tony laugh lightly.

“You could’ve asked me anything.”

Steve shrugged, though he doubted he could see.

“It’s been bugging me for nearly a year.”

Tony began to swim with a steady breaststroke over to Steve. He met him half way, noticing how Tony didn’t seem the least bit irritated by his question. Water droplets clung to his face, sparkled subtly on his lashes. He sighed.

“It’s a long story.”

“Then give me the short version?” He asked in reply, raising his eyebrows hopefully. They continued to bob up and down as the brunette collected his thoughts.

“I… found him because he’s a mutant. Well- he’s got powers. He was bitten by a radioactive spider, so he’s got heightened senses and stamina and agility and stuff. Healing, proportional strength of a spider, and what-not.”

What?

“What?” he frowned. 

“And I found him,” Tony continued, ignoring Steve’s confusion. “And helped him out, since he was going out and fighting crime in a onesie. Just to keep him safe.”

“Wait.”

A young man, with spider powers, high tech suit… wait- no. 

It couldn’t be… right?

“Was he the one I fought in Germany?”

Tony visibly winced. His arms that were moving in circles to stay afloat rotated a little faster. 

“Tony!” Steve gaped, reading the man’s worried expression. “You found him so you could recruit him to your team?”

“You got the ant dude!” He spurted in quick defence. Steve shook his head, looking at him with disbelief.

“That ant dude was forty! Germany was nearly three years ago- that kid would have been what, fourteen?”

“Fifteen,” Tony mumbled.

“My point!”

“I’ve already regretted it, it’s happened, let’s not talk about it. Please.”

Steve believed him. He pursed his lips as he leaned back slowly, letting the cool water lap at his hair. He exhaled slowly. At least it confirmed that his ‘father and son’ suspicion was very much wrong.

“So is that it?”

“What is it?”

“You’re his… mentor? Why was he living with you and not his parents?”

“Give him a break Steve, he’s eighteen. His parents are dead.”

Steve bit his lip. It was the first time Tony had called him ‘Steve’ and not ‘Rodgers’. He took it as a good sign, but he felt bad for talking so harshly.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony just slumped his shoulders. He turned around so the water rippled where he once was and swam a little distance down the pool.

Steve followed, slowly but surely. He’d let this off to a bad start. That was on him.

He swam carefully up behind the other man, before lifting his hands out the water and splashing him playfully.

Tony swung round with a glare, but a smile tickled his lips.

“I’m going to drown you if you do that again.”

Steve nearly laughed.

“Not if I drown you first.”

Not exactly the way he’d liked to have re-kindled his friendship with Tony, but oh well.

He just rolled his eyes, smirking, carding his hands through his dark hair that was slicked back, shiny and wet. Attractive.

“You even push me under once and I’ll get out and leave. Though I’m assuming you meant that as a joke, since your boy scout law doesn’t give you the right to kill anyone.”

“Yes, it was a joke, Tony,” Steve said calmly. He smiled before taking a short, quick breath, and letting himself fall down into the water. He closed his eyes to comforting darkness as the water flooded his ears and everything else melted away around him. 

He stayed like that for around fifteen seconds before he became slightly light headed, and pushed off the bottom to float up to the surface. Water broke around him, and his ears were suddenly again filled with the splash he’d created. He exhaled deeply, fluttering his eyes open and raking his fingers through his hair. 

Tony had stayed in the exact same spot, watching Steve with pink cheeks as he rubbed water from his face.

“Why don’t you wanna go under?”

He sniffed irritably. 

“I had enough of that in Afghanistan, thanks.”

Oh.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve blurted out, suddenly aware of what he’d done. “Oh man- is this bad? We can leave, if you want. I didn’t think, I should have asked-“

“No, it’s fine- “ Tony placed a firm hand on Steve’s wet skin, squeezing in an attempt to soothe him. “Swimming’s fine, it’s fun. This was a good idea. I just can’t handle being underwater for too long. Honestly, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Steve felt himself deflate, nodding.

“Okay. That’s good.”

He knew that Afghanistan all those years ago would have still had an effect on Tony. He was half relieved he was still in the ice when it happened- he didn’t know how he’d have comforted the Tony Stark he never knew then. He thought of the waterboarding, and Tony. He shuddered.

An hour went by. They swam laps, talking of other things that were far away from Germany or Siberia, Afghanistan or even The Avengers. Steve spoke of New York, Brooklyn, when he was a kid, Tony spoke of later years, making Dummy, his passions and hobbies, his favourite food. They laughed about stupid shit- and Steve remembered very quickly why he’d missed him so much. They were both so completely different, yet so compatible. They joked and laughed, and it was suddenly like The Accords had never happened at all.  
They floated at the side, backs against the hard tile and their arms slung over the edge. Steve tilted his head to the side to see Tony’s jaw, his hair that was longer than he remembered it being, his nose that glistened with water. He tried to look away. He couldn’t.

“Y’ know Peter,” He said softly, tracing patterns onto the wet tile with his finger.

“Mhm?”

“You love him?”

Tony’s head turned slowly to the side, chocolate hair falling in his even darker eyes and a far-away look in his expression.

“Yes,” he mumbled softly. 

Steve just smiled.

He supposed these three years had been more significant to Tony than Steve could have ever imagined. He thought about the man next to him, who had always seemed so arrogant and brash, charmed and softened by this child. He thought about the young man he’d met not that long ago, who spoke of Tony so protectively, who spoke to Steve so patronisingly, and who seemed to want nothing but for Tony to be safe. He wasn’t sure of the events in between which lead up to this fatherly bond, but Steve was grateful for it. 

He was grateful for Peter.

“He loves you too, you know.”

Tony didn’t look at Steve. His eyes just softened as a smile touched his lips.

Steve decided it was all he needed to know about them both at that moment. So he left it there, though he couldn’t stop smiling every time he thought of Tony Stark going home to his teenager. His son.

“I missed you,” Tony said, breaking his train of thought. He’d turned to give Steve a soft look, of longing and something else. The water rippled a little as Steve turned his body so he could see him better.

“I missed you too.”

“No. I…” Tony sighed, resting his face on his hand. “I don’t know. I got over the Accords shit. I was scared to see you. But I needed to. I have Peter- and I know you don’t understand, but I love him, I really do. He helped a lot. I couldn’t have done anything at all, probably ever again without him. But Peter’s one thing, and… I feel as if I’m missing the other. The other thing.” 

Steve nodded slowly as if he understood. He didn’t.

“I needed to see you,” he says again- a little louder, more confident. “Because you’re… important.”

“You’re important to me too.”

Tony’s body receded a little more into the water as he exhaled, and his body slouched more against the side. He moved a little closer.

Or was that Steve?

Shit, he couldn’t tell.

He let himself follow Tony’s eyes as they fluttered open and closed, his blinking becoming slower. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was bored.

Either way, he had pretty eyes. So it didn’t really matter.

He suddenly hummed deeply as if in thought, and tapped his fingers against his head harshly. Steve frowned.

“You fucked me over.”

“I- I know,” he replied quietly. He knew too well. Tony looked at him dubiously. 

“It’s taken me fucking ages to get over it.”

He didn’t feel it was a good time to reply. He just watched the brunette closely, until he realised he was gazing back at him with an unsettling stare.

“I hated you for it.”

His words dissolved around his head. He heard it- he should probably have reacted- but he didn’t. Instead, he was memorising the details of his face. He was mesmerised by the way his lips fell around the word ‘hated’ and how his plump lips reflected the lights which made them shine. It was intoxicating.

It wasn’t the right place to reply. They were so close. Steve was afraid that if he moved his lips slightly he’d be practically kissing him.

Or he wasn’t afraid.

Steve felt Tony’s warm breath hit his face when he exhaled. 

“I hated you.”

Steve should have seen the kiss coming. He did- but he didn’t. Not for real. 

But it was real. He felt Tony’s hand like a dream press against his chest under the water before closing the space between them. His hand slotted across his jaw, pulling through his beard and traced his ear with his fingers. He pressed their lips together feverishly before Steve could even think about what was happening. He suckled on his bottom lip, nibbled, even, kissed him like he was hungry. He was hot and wet and perfect and-

-and he was kissing Tony. Shit, he was kissing Tony. 

Steve felt like he was drunk. It was far too long before he actually reacted, but he gathered himself finally, and kissed back.

He moved his mouth carefully against Tony’s. As soon as Tony felt the response, he emitted a low groan and pressed harder. It became more passionate, rougher as Tony slipped his tongue past Steve’s lips and explored the inside of his mouth, filling the room with more obscener, wetter sounds than the pool could have ever made. Fuck.  
His breathing became shallower as he felt the roughness of their facial hair scratch against each other, as Tony clamped his second hand around his face and gasped into the kiss. Every little sound Tony made sent butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

Oh god.

It’s so good.

He’s so good.

He slipped a hand around the back of his head, running his fingers through the dark, wet strands. He tugged slightly with longing, causing Tony’s knees to buckle as his mouth broke away from the kiss.

“F-f-uck-“

His voice was low, laced with lust, and rumbled through Steve, leaving warmth pooling in his groin.

The kiss was much wetter than it should have been- but Steve wouldn’t have got them out of the pool if he could. The lack of clothing worn by both of them was painfully erotic- and Steve moaned lowly against Tony’s swollen lips as Tony bit him softly again. He brought his hands lower, tracing Tony’s beautifully sculpted figure, holding his gorgeous waist-

Tony pulled apart suddenly, pressing his forehead hard against Steve’s and looking at him with lustful eyes.

“Hey,” he murmured breathily, “this was a date. I called it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Langua-“

Steve broke him off with a kiss- but a softer one, where he chastely moved his lips carefully around Tony’s until his heart felt like literal butter. Tony whined.  
God, he’d love to hear that again.

“How long?” Tony asked, still pressed against his mouth. Steve smiled.

 

Nothing in the world could have ever happened to make him hate Tony. Nothing in the world. No. Not the Accords, not Siberia. He had always been encapsulated by Tony in every way, right from… when? Right from where he started to get to know him properly? Right from Ultron? Right from New York? 

 

He just tightened his grip around his head, breathing in his expensive cologne.

 

“For forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this kind of sucks, I'm sorry ahh. Finally got round to finishing this, tell me your opinions! I think I'm going to do another Peter/ Tony fic next. Thank you so much for your lovely comments, an thanks for reading this 3 parter fic! xxx


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